


Push Me Somewhere I Don't Wanna Be

by isitandwonder



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Elio has a serious humiliation kink in this one, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sexual Fantasy, Verbal Humiliation, self-suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: I mean, LOME!Elio totally would...
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 28
Kudos: 141





	Push Me Somewhere I Don't Wanna Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leili](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leili/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic for my dear friend Leili!  
> Happy birthday! Have a great day!  
> I know you wanted something much more sad and I'm sorry, I promise to work on that prompt because it is so.fucking.good.  
> For now, please accept my humble offer of porny porn!
> 
> It's an outtake from the [LOME universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18181004/chapters/43001933), happening on a lazy warm summer morning while Elio and Oliver stay at the villa...
> 
> The title is taken from Pushit by Tool

When Elio awakes one summer morning, he knows he's alone in bed without having to check. They've been staying at the villa for some weeks now, so he registers the subtle clues to Oliver's absence without even having to reach over to his side and find it empty; the mattress just feels different, the smell in the room is slightly changed, the temperature a little lower than with Oliver's warm body beneath the sheets.

Elio stretches languidly, still too sleepy to get up. He has only a vague idea what time it is but his feet seem to rest in a pool of sunshine coming through the window. He again must have forgotten to close the blinds. Well, it's not that he needs them, and why can't Oliver take care of that himself? But the sunlight explains why he's already up. Maybe he went for a jog or a swim.

It must be still early. Soon, the sun will wander up the bed, making the room stuffy with heat so it's impossible to sleep any longer.

That's why they've started to take naps in the afternoon.

Well, if he says naps... Elio starfishes out on his stomach, lazily grinding against the mattress.

Sometimes these naps involve even some sleep. Afterwards.

Elio grins against the pillow.

He's been semi-hard upon waking up and now his cock is filling out, stiffening as he rubs it against the soft linen.

He remembers what they did yesterday afternoon, Oliver slowly undressing him between slow, deep kisses, pulling down his bathing trunks so his cock could spring free and slap against his belly, whispering sweet nothings about how beautiful he looked with his tan and freckles, his tongue darting out to map them on his skin...

Remembers Oliver’s tongue probing down, down, traveling along his spine while he lay like this on his stomach, naked, spreading his legs wider, his hips gyrating until Oliver put one large hand to the small of his back to still him.

“No, baby, don't get too excited just yet... I want to take my time with you...”

Elio remembers mewling, biting the pillow underneath his cheek in frustration.

But then Oliver had pushed his right leg up, up, exposing him, and his tongue had been back, swiping over his tailbone, wet and warm and soft...

The hand on his right thigh had flexed, gripped him tighter...

And then Oliver's tongue had been right where Elio had wanted it, needed it, and he'd moaned, had wanted to move, to meet Oliver's onslaught on his hole but he'd been pinned down like an insect, a butterfly under glass...

“Don't move.” Oliver had told him. “Be good. Don't get yourself off against the sheet like a horny slut. You know Mafalda looks for proof that you've been naughty. Imagine her finding evidence that you've played with yourself and came all over her pristine sheets. Imagine having to explain to her that you are such a filthy, needy thing that you can't keep your hands away from your prick. She might even ask me to discipline you...”

Oliver's breath had ghosted over Elio's spit-slick pucker, making it flutter.

“Oh, you like the idea, right?” Elio had heard Oliver's lewd grin before he'd dove back in, this time more insistent, trying to breach Elio with his tongue.

As Elio had stayed quiet, concentrating on not thrusting against the mattress, Oliver had come up again.

“I asked you a question and I expect and answer.” And he had slapped Elio's bottom, hard, making him gasp. “An elaborate one. Tell me what I should do to you. Don't be vague.”

He'd soothed the area that still burned from his palm with a kiss, then trailed more down until his mouth again pressed against Elio's hole, this time sucking on the tight muscle.

Elio had felt himself blush as he'd started to speak. He knew the rules. He had to be as rude and filthy as possible or all he'd get for a few days would be a chaste peck on the cheek and the suggestion to use one of their toys...

“There's that old rack in the garden near the kitchen door.” It had been used to clean carpets thrown over it before his grandfather had bought a hoover; Elio remembers trying to do chin-ups on it when a little boy. “You could tie me up there, spread-eagled, naked. And then you could give me the good hard thrashing a horny slut like me deserves.” He'd had to swallow, his mouth going dry as he thought about that scene. Oliver had been working his ass with abandon, humming in agreement. “Maybe with your belt? Or the garden hose. I'd scream and beg and cry and promise not to touch myself again but you wouldn't believe me because you know I'm so needy and weak that I can't be trusted.”

Oliver had pulled back but had still held Elio open. “You're such a cockslut, aren't you?”

“Yes, for any cock, and if I can't get it I take mine.”

A wet dollop of spit had landed on Elio's hole and he'd shuddered. He'd known what was to come and had to exert extreme self-control not to beg for it. Yet he’d allowed himself to sigh when one of Oliver's fingers had breached him.

“I would get so hard from being whipped, it would be so embarrassing. You'd tell me how pathetic I looked, how my cock was way too small, that I should be ashamed to even offer that sorry little thing to you. And I would be, I would be so ashamed, Oliver...” Elio had trailed off when Oliver had started to massage his prostate.

“Go on.”

“I...oh god… you would just laugh at me and then it would be quiet because you'd just left me hanging there, alone, all night, and maybe even the next day. If I had to piss I would just have to pee under me... and just imagine we had guests. They would find me like this, see me, take pictures and share them on the web. I would beg them for water, because I knew if I asked them to untie me you would punish me even harder, maybe all over again. But they would just pinch my ass and my balls and my nipples until I told them I would let them fuck me for a glass of water and they'd call me a dirty whore and instead of water they would fetch you, repeating what I said. And I would plead and whine but you'd tell me that I had to make good on my promise and that they were our guests and so you'd free me but I'd be too exhausted to walk so I had to crawl on all four back inside.”

Oliver had added a second finger and Elio had taken that as encouragement to go on.

“In the dining room you'd thrown me over the table and then every guest could have a go at me, fucking me while you made me beg for more. Only when everyone had come inside me you'd slap my face with your thick cock, almost choking me when I was eventually allowed to suck it...”

That had been when Oliver had come all over Elio's back, untouched, his hot cum dripping down his spine until Oliver had thrown him over on his back and swallowed him down. It had only taken a few determined licks for Elio to flood his mouth with his seed.

“Baby...” Oliver had gathered him up in his arms afterwards, stroked his hair, his face, peppering his cheeks with kisses.

They both know that these are fantasies, that Elio hasn't any real interest in anyone else and certainly doesn't want to be whipped and raped by strangers but now and then the idea excites him. And Oliver gives him room to explore these scenarios, coaxing them out of Elio with a combination of a carrot and a stick. Figuratively speaking.

Indulging in these vivid memories has made Elio's cock swell and throb, but it's somehow not enough. Nor is the mattress.

But imagining sucking Oliver off, remembering how good it had felt when Oliver had taken him into his mouth, has given him an idea... thank god he's so flexible.

Elio quickly kicks off the thin sheet he's slept under and turns on his back. When stretching out his arms he feels the wooden headboard above him. Good.

He throws his legs in the air and curves his spine until his whole weight balances on his shoulders, stemming his feet against the headboard.

Then he opens his mouth, cranes his neck, raising his head, searching... he can smell himself, the heady, slightly sour musk of precome...

There!

His lips brush against his swollen cockhead and a shudder runs through his whole body.

He can't take himself deep into his mouth, maybe just one third, but it's better than nothing. In fact, it's surprisingly good.

He'd no idea he'd such talent for giving head until he sucked himself off. He wonders why he'd never done this before.

He moves his hips and strains his neck as much as possible without injuring himself (now, that would be embarrassing... his balls tighten as he imagines telling a doctor how he cracked his neck...) until there's suddenly a curse echoing through the bedroom.

“Jesus fuck me, Elio! What the hell...”

He must have been so preoccupied with blowing himself that he didn't hear Oliver come back.

He wants to unfold, hot shame flushing his face, his skin heating down to his navel (which right now must be up above him, how is this so confusing?)... but Oliver's broad, sweaty palm landing in the middle of his curved back prevents him from lying back down.

“Holy fuck, baby! Come on, show me how much of your own cock you can take.”

And as Oliver presses down Elio's stiff prick glides deeper into his mouth, deeper... deeper... until it hits the back of his throat.

“Suck!” Oliver commands and Elio hollows his cheeks, swallows, swirls his tongue around his glans...

“God, you really are a cockslut...” Oliver smells of sweat and sun and there's some rustling of fabric and then another essence fills the room, the distinct fragrance of Oliver's arousal that Elio would recognize anywhere...

“Take it!” Another firm push, and Elio gags but also opens wider and then Oliver slaps his hard cock against the ridge of Elio's bent spine, wet and sticky, and Elio comes into his own mouth, drinking down as much as he can, but it's actually too much and he gags so a lot spills over his lips and cheeks and chin…

Oliver's palm is gone so Elio can unfold and roll back onto the bed, legs shaking, belly heaving as he tries to breathe, but he's not allowed to do this for long because the hand that held him down is now in his hair, yanking him up and around and then the fat head of Oliver's cock nudges against his cum-stained lips, demanding entrance.

Of course, it's granted.

When Elio opens up Oliver pushes in, neither hesitating, nor careful... he knows how much Elio can take, which is a lot. So he slides down Elio's throat, his free hand closing around Elio’s abused throat, fingers tightening, increasing the pressure.

And with that Oliver also knows how far to go, allowing Elio to float without passing out...

It just takes a few thrusts and then a familiar taste spills on Elio's tongue and he swallows, swallows, coughing, fighting for air. When Oliver pulls out Elio can feel the thick strand of spit and cum still connecting his lips with Oliver's skin.

“Look at you.” Oliver whispers, voice hoarse, as the pad of his thumb smears the mess on Elio's face all over his cheeks, down his throat.

“Can't.” Elio replies dryly when he has his breath back, which earns him a playful slap.

“Not just a cockslut but a cumslut as well... As punishment for being cheeky and having all the fun with yourself, you'll go down like this for breakfast, without washing your face...”

Elio's mouth breaks into a grin around Oliver's thumb.


End file.
